


The Gunslinger Redux

by Calico (Calico321)



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Episode 5 Rewrite, Fennec was underused, Gen, Toro was such a little shit, a hint of MandOmera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calico321/pseuds/Calico
Summary: Episode 5, The Gunslinger was pretty unsatisfying to me for a number of reasons, so I decided to rewrite it a bit, plotwise, plus add a little more.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

The Razor Crest shuddered with another concussion blast. Not lethal. Yet. _Karga’s orders?_ he wondered _._ Some vain attempt to get his most profitable bounty hunter back in the fold?

“I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold, Mando.”

Din Djarin gritted his teeth at the statement. Was that Karga’s doing as well? Having his hunters use the Mandalorian’s own phrase against him in an attempt to get under his skin? _Well it worked_ , he thought in annoyance and tilted the stick hard while jamming the thrusters into reverse.

It was a risky move, not one many would have dared to try. Once upon a time even Din might not have attempted it. But that was then and this was now. He needed to end this battle quickly and in his favor. But mostly he was just mad.

The Crest shook with the sudden change in vector, tilting and skipping backwards, sliding under the other ship but it wasn’t as clean as Din would have liked; the starboard engine caught the underside of the hunter’s craft with a jarring thump and an ear-splitting shriek that echoed through the Crest’s hold. Behind him a small sound somewhere between a squeak and a laugh was eked out almost involuntarily as the child bounced around in the refurbished storage crate. A harness. _I should have added a harness,_ he thought dully as he pressed the thrusters forward again now completely behind the other ship.

He locked onto the hunter and prepared to unleash the full barrage available to him; HE was under no such compunction about keeping his opponent alive.

“That’s my line,” he spat over the open comm and fired.

The hunter’s ship disintegrated, buffeting the crest with debris and Din allowed himself a small moment to relax. Unfortunately the Crest did not agree it was time to relax and sent out a cacophony of warning lights and alarms to demand his immediate attention before the ship simply shut down into darkened silence.

_Kriff_.

He looked back at his small charge barely visible in the dim emergency lighting, but saw no judgment. Really the kid was smiling as if have a grand time unaware or unconcerned about his most recent brush with death. He was having fun. Din couldn’t believe it. Any other being would be terrified, but not this kid. In fact the kid hardly complained about _anything_. Happy to have a full stomach and something shiny to hold, he rarely showed even a hint of displeasure beyond occasional dips of those huge ears. Din wondered, not for the first time, what horrors the little one had endured before Din found him on Arvala-7. What terrible things had they done to him that not even a noisy dogfight could scare him?

“I got this, don’t worry,” he told the child anyway and received a big toothy grin in return.

He turned back around and reinitiated the start sequence, flipping a few buttons numerous times, mentally pleading with the ship to not abandon him now. Finally, the port engine came to life and then the starboard engine joined it, if only halfheartedly. The lights in the cabin returned, though dimmer. Fuel leak, he thought as he tapped a gauge on the console. They were in desperate need of repairs unless they wanted to be floating out in the void of space indefinitely.

He pulled up the local star charts and checked for the closest option. Tatooine: formerly Hutt controlled, but since the ousting of Jabba had remained relatively independent, avoiding the heavy hand of any other criminal cabals and not even officially joining the New Republic. Quiet, neutral, and hopefully no one from the Guild had decided to take an impromptu holiday there.

“Tatooine it is then,” he said out loud. He’d never spoken to himself before when alone; there just wasn’t a need to hear his own voice. But now, he couldn’t help it. Something just made him want to keep the kid abreast of things, even if he didn’t understand.

Two hours later they entered Tatooine space and the control tower at Mos Eisley directed him to landing bay 35; they did not ask for Din’s pilot ID for which he was grateful. Din dropped the Crest into atmo as carefully as possible. For a long second he worried if the ship’s reverse thrusters wouldn’t be able to counter the planet’s gravity; he handled the stick and adjusted deceleration between the good and not-so-good engines with a tension in his muscles as if he were carrying the ship down on his own back. It was possibly the longest 15 minutes he had spent in recent memory as the ship vibrated with strain of conflicting forces before mercifully setting down safely on the tarmac. He killed the power, feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to return to Sorgan, take a flagon of spotchka, sit on a porch and watch the kid play with those stupid blue fish. No, he shook his head, no more of that.

He turned around expecting the kid to wave at him happily after yet another fun ride, but instead the little one was laying down in the crate and sound asleep, apparently lulled by the ship’s vibrations, or just worn out from the excitement. Either way, Din counted this as good luck. He didn’t want to have to field questions about this strange child along with negotiating repairs AND finding gainful employment. So he gently scooped the baby up and wrapped him in the soft blanket the color of Sorgan krill that Omera had given him…And just like that the image of the widow’s dark hair and beautiful eyes and kind smile appeared in his mind as she was asking him to stay and he was realizing that he did want that, if only a little bit, as her hands reached for his helmet… Kriff, he didn’t want to think about her, not now, not when…No, just no, he told himself. A different life, a different Din Djarin belonged on Sorgan, not the one raised _Mando’ad_.

He cradled the baby in one arm and stepped onto the ladder, dropping lightly into the hold. He placed the bundle in the small sleep compartment that he rarely used for himself. It was quiet and he could seal it off away from prying eyes. He told himself the kid would sleep for hours at least; plenty of time to get business arranged. No worries, the kid would be fine. After taking one last look and allowing himself a small caress wishing the child sweet dreams, he then shut the compartment and exited the rear of the Crest.

Of course the first thing he would see would be a trio of pit droids racing towards him. Still on edge, he didn’t even hesitate to draw the blaster and shoot at the ground in front of them. As if synchronized, all three flattened to the ground with little more than their disk-shaped heads visible.

“Hey!” came an annoyed, shrill voice and Din looked up to see a woman stomping towards him. She was short, wore bulky work overalls and had the frizziest hair he’d ever seen. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, gesturing at the droids.

“No droids,” he said as if that were all that needed saying.

She looked him up and down, made a grimace, and then said, “It’ll cost you extra if I have to do all the work myself.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” she said back to him testily and grabbed a datapad. They walked around the ship categorizing the damage. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were in a fire fight!” she said.

Din remained quiet.

Once the repairs were detailed, came the price. He handed her a small pile of credits. “This will cover the hanger fee,” she said, looking at him dubiously.

“I’ll get the rest.”

“You better.”

“And remember…”

“Yeah, I got it,” she waved him off as he walked out the hangar’s door.

The cantina wasn’t hard to locate. Inside was quiet and dark. Only a few patrons. He walked to the bar and asked the bartender – another kriffing droid – about work. No Guild work in these parts. That was a relief. He asked about independent contracts and the droid motioned to a holoboard in the back corner. Din nodded in thanks and walked towards it. Most of the patrons openly looked at him in curiosity. Those didn’t bother him. However, the young man at the table in the front corner that was far too interested in his mug of local spirits

… _not as good as sp_ _o_ _tchka, I bet_ , the small voice in his head said and he told the small voice to kindly shut the hell up…

he noted to keep an eye on. The man _was_ young though, couldn’t be more than 22 or 23, not much gear, just a blaster on his hip and a blade in his boot. Not Guild, definitely, but actively avoiding notice. Maybe he had a bounty? As long as he stayed put it wouldn’t matter.

Din went to the board and began swiping through. Lost tooka-cat. Missing dewback. Stolen speeder. Wanted seasonal water farming help. Din sighed; had Tatooine really gotten this boring?

He took one last swipe and saw a face, one he knew he had seen before: a woman with straight black hair, narrow hard eyes, and a cruel mouth. Beneath it was a name: Fennec Shand. He let out a low whistle.

**W A N T E D**  
Reward for information leading to capture: 500 credits  
Reward for proof of death: 10,000 credits  
Reward for live capture: 25,000 credits  
Subject extremely dangerous. Contractor assumes all risks and expenses.

The contact coordinates indicated the Nal Hutta system. Well that made sense. Shand was a notorious enforcer for the Hutts. If they’d had a falling out, Tatooine would be a prime place for her to run to: anti-Hutt sentiments while she’d have established contacts and probably multiple safe-houses stocked up. The posting included her chain code. Din keyed his vambrace to download the information. He had a few spare tracking fobs on the ship. Shand was tough and it would likely be dangerous, but he was sorely out of options and the money was too good to pass up.

Having gotten what he came for, he turned to leave, carefully keeping the young man from before in the corner of his eye. The man was now completely engrossed in something happening out the window. _Keep it that way_ , Din thought and walked out into the blistering sun.

He walked slowly but did not go directly back to the hangar, taking several random turns and listening. At an intersection to an alley, he quickly sidled right and waited in the shadow of the building. Footsteps approached and he reached out and grabbed a fistful of shirt. He hauled the young man from the cantina into the alley roughly and pinned him against the wall with his left forearm. He grabbed his vibroblade out of its sheath and held it to the man’s throat.

“It’s not polite to follow people,” Din said evenly.

“Hey, hey! Mando, no need to get upset,” the man held his hands up. “Just wanted to talk.”

“Not interested in conversation. Keep going.” He let the man go and shoved him back into the road.

The man hesitated and turned back. “I want to help you with Shand, is all.”

“Don’t want help. Definitely don’t need it.”

“She’s dangerous!”

“I know.”

The man dug the toe of his boot into the sand. “It would mean a lot if…”

“No.”

“I’m trying to become a bounty hunter. There’s just not a lot of opportunities to learn.”

“Find the cat and the speeder. Work your way up,” Din advised and started walking in the other direction.

“Hey!”

“Don’t follow me,” Din warned without slowing down. “I won’t be as friendly next time.”

It took about a half hour to get back to the hangar. He pushed through the door and jogged up into the ship. He stopped just inside and opened a storage hatch near the carbonite freezer, impatiently shoving aside gaskets, tubes, and wires of unknown origin before he found one of the extra tracking fobs, which he quickly stuffed into a pouch on his belt.

Then he turned and...oh stars, oh kriffing hell in a hand basket!

The sleeping compartment was wide open. He rushed to it and picked up the discarded blanket, stomach sinking in something he would never name. He began rushing around the ship.

“Kid! Kid, where are you!” he yelled, pushing aside every piece of movable detritus scattered around the hold, looking inside anything that opened, hoping the kid was hiding somewhere. He even – stars help him – looked down the vac tube. He grabbed the ladder and hauled himself to the flight deck. “Kid! _Ad’ika_?”

The little voice in his head laughed at him for the endearment, to which he reminded the voice that it was a common term for foundlings in the covert, and it didn’t mean anything important but the kid was missing so please butt out…

He checked in the box and under the control and in the galley and the child was nowhere. Gone. Someone had to have taken him and Din was going to find that person and…

He jumped back down the ladder and stormed out of the ship, allowing all the extra weight of his armor to hammer each step as a pounding drum.

“WHERE IS HE?” he bellowed into the open hanger. Pit droids squeaked and scattered into hiding.

He heard a startled, “I’m awake!” and looked up to see the mechanic in the window to the office on the second floor. She jumped up and he heard a familiar garbled cry. “And now you woke the baby. Do you know how long it took to get him to sleep?” she huffed and exited the office to walk down and stand in front of Din, child held on her left hip. He blinked his big eyes in the mid-day sun and looked at Din, whose fury only partially dissipated. He tried to grab for the boy, but the mechanic twisted him out of reach.

Din glared. “What were you doing snooping in my ship?”

“I _didn’t_ ,” she replied testily. “He came out. Scared and hungry.”

“Oh.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she mocked. “Who leaves a baby all alone in a ship?”

“I thought he’d sleep until I got back.”

“Well that’s not how baby’s work. You’ve got a lot to learn about raising a young one.”

_You don’t know the half of it, lady_ , he thought. “Look, I found a job. It’ll take me a couple of hours at least, maybe the whole night.”

“Uh huh,” she said skeptically. “Let me guess, now you need a babysitter?”

“It would seem so,” he admitted.

“It’ll cost you extra.”

“Wouldn’t imagine otherwise,” he said dryly.

“Fine then.” She took that moment to give him a rundown on the repairs and they haggled over whether replacing the landing gear was an absolute necessity before he was ready to depart.

“Do you know where I could rent a speed bike?”

She looked him up and down before seeming to come to a decision. “I’ve got one in back. Don’t use it much, but it runs.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t worry about it…”

“You’ll put it on the bill, I got it.”

She smiled at that and jiggled the baby. He nodded at her and turned to leave. “Hey!” she said calling him back. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

“Um, goodbye?”

“Not to me!” She nodded her head quickly to the side at the child.

“Oh.” Din walked back over and as soon as he was close enough the baby reached out with both small hands. He took him from the mechanic and awkwardly held him as she looked on. “Listen, I’m sorry about leaving you. Again. But I will be back. I will always be back.” The baby watched him, ears twitching at his words. “Behave and…” He gave a side eye to the woman before saying quietly, “no weird stuff.”

The kid cooed and patted at his shoulder. Din smiled and gave a small pat on the child’s back before returning him to the mechanic. They waved at him as he walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Din sat just outside of Mos Eisley. He’d downloaded the information from his vambrace into the fob and watched as it started beeping faintly. He pointed it at all four cardinal points of the compass until he’d fixed the direction as north-northwest.

He placed the fob on his belt and steered the speeder in that direction. Less than an hour out, however, he slowed to a stop and turned the bike off even though the fob had barely gotten any stronger. The swath of vast desert that reached out in front of him he recognized as the domain of the Tuskens, remembered from his previous visits. And they did not appreciate outsiders crossing unbidden; he could respect that. He would wait for the scouting party that was certainly to already aware of his presence to arrive so that he could discuss arrangements for passage.

However, a few minutes later there was the rev of an engine behind him. A speeder bike pulled up alongside, and there was that damned kid from the cantina.

Din very conspicuously placed his hand on the butt of his blaster as the kid shut off his bike. He looked at Din with a big grin and actually waved.

“Leave,” Din said. “I won’t tell you again, kid-“

“Toro. Toro Calican,” said the kid, sticking out his hand. Din sighed and closed his eyes. It was a classic technique: put a name to a face, make it personal. Many bounties had tried that, even going so far as to name off their kids, pets, and grandparents.

“I don’t care,” Din replied. “I’m not running a bounty hunter school.”

The smile dropped. “She killed my father.”

_Kriff_ , Din thought. _Not one of those_. “Not my problem.”

“I want justice!”

“Then you should be happy I’ll be shipping her back to the Hutts.”

“I want to kill her!”

“Not going to happen.”

“Why? Because you want the money?” Calican spit out. “I thought Mandalorians cared about more than money!”

“You haven’t the slightest idea what Mandalorian’s care about,” Din said quietly, jaw set and hand clenching. “Last chance: leave.”

Calican shook his head. “No. You’ll have to kill me. So just do it or let’s get going.”

Din sighed. “No, I don’t have to kill you. I just have to hobble you and let them take care of you.” Din jerked his left thumb over his shoulder.

Calican looked confused as he followed the gesture. “Wha—ahhh!” he cried as he saw the pair of Tuskens who had walked up behind them.

“Relax, kid,” Din said quietly and swung off the speeder to face the new arrivals. “No need to spook them.”

Din faced the Tusken that was closest to him. From previous interactions he knew they used non-verbal communication and used some of the limited hand signals he remembered to request to cross their lands, explaining he was hunting an ally of the old Hutt that used to terrorize the land. Din knew Jabba’s people often antagonized the desert folk for fun.

The Tusken replied in kind that would be acceptable if Din were to provide a gift for the Two Brothers, Tatooine’s twin suns that the Tuskens revered as deities, or spiritual guides. Din thought for a moment about offering his vibroblade or a few armor cartridges, but then he looked over and saw a pair of binocs attached to Calican’s bike.

“Throw me the binocs,” Din said.

“Huh?” the kid said, confused, but complied.

Din caught them and offered it to the Tuskens. It was deemed acceptable and the cloaked pair departed as quietly as they had arrived.

“Hey, those were brand new.”

“Yeah, they were. I could have traded you instead,” Din suggested.

Calican huffed.

They remounted their bikes. “So I guess I can come along then?”

Din sighed. “Since you paid the passage, fine. But I’m telling you right now, you’re not getting the revenge you want. And if you try-“

“You’ll kill me, I got it. I just…I just want to help. Maybe that can be enough.”

“Maybe,” Din said, doubtful, and then started the bike.

After another two hours, he started checking the fob frequently to adjust direction and gauge distance. Eventually they came upon what appeared to be an abandoned moisture farm. Din stopped and turned off his bike about a half klick away, and dropped down onto his belly. Calican followed suit. Behind them, one sun had already dipped below the horizon and the second was going to follow within the next 30 minutes.

“Wow, could you have stopped any further back? It’s just a speck from here. If I had my binocs-“

“I can see fine,” Din replied, using the helmet’s magnification. Like all the farms on the planet, the buildings were domed, blasted white from the suns and sandstorms. This farm had clearly been out of commission for some time, but as dusk was quickly giving way to evening, Din could see some lights and shadows playing out in the small windows of the main house. The fob let out strong, steady beeps in confirmation of the observation.

Din adjusted the helmet to pick up lower frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum and saw a perimeter of microwaves about a half meter off the ground. Likely generated by sensors buried at intervals all around the farm. Breaking the connection to the sensors would either set of a series of explosives or sound an alarm inside to warn Shand of interlopers. Explosives seemed unlikely as any random animal wandering into the vicinity could turn the surrounding area into a war zone. Din remembered that Fennec Shand was a notoriously lethal sharpshooter. Even barring the minimal risk of being blown up, a full-frontal attack would be suicide. He thought through several assault options but they all ended with blowing the house up and were quickly dismissed, since getting her alive was his primary objective. So, divide and conquer it was.

“You’re in luck, kid. You get to be useful after all.”

“You mean again, right?”

“Whatever. Follow me, and stay low.”

Leaving the bikes, they approached the farm on foot, zigzagging between dunes for cover until they were just outside the sensors’ range. Night had almost completely fallen, which Din counted in their favor.

“You’re going to go behind the house and stop there.” He pointed at a small outbuilding, the previous moisture farmers used to for storage. “Don’t go any closer than we are now until you get over there, then get behind the building. Stay there and keep your head down,” he stressed.

“So I’m bait?”

Din shrugged. “If you want to put a name on it.”

“What if she kills me!”

“Then you didn’t follow orders.”

Calican glared at him for a moment and then stalked off to do as he was told. _It’s not going to be explosives_ , Din told himself as he crouched at the ready. He watched Calican reach the back of the farm, set his shoulders, and then run towards the outbuilding.

Nothing exploded. _Thank you_ , Din thought to no one in particular and drew his blaster as he sprinted for the front door. He heard the loud _POP POP POP_ as a high caliber rifle discharged from somewhere within. He pulled his leg up and kicked in the door hard then walked in with his blaster leading but tipped low in case he had to incapacitate.

He saw a figure crouched at a rear window, hair in a straight black ponytail down the back. A rifle was against her left shoulder, sitting on the window’s sill for stability.

“Freeze, Shand,” Din said. “Drop it and stand up slowly.”

Her back stiffened. She allowed the butt of the rifle to slide down to the ground and held up her left hand. The right remained held in front of her.

“Both hands!” Din yelled, expecting her to have a smaller weapon hidden.

“I can’t,” she said in a low, even voice. “I’m turning around. Don’t shoot.”

She stood up and did as she said she would. When she was facing him, Din saw her right arm was held against her body in a sling. He relaxed a little.

“Fennec Shand, there is a bounty for your return to the Nal Hutta. I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.”

She lifted one corner of her mouth in disbelief. “If you were willing to take me in cold, you wouldn’t be standing there.”

Din said nothing. She wasn’t wrong. He pulled his cuffs out. “I’m going to put these on you. Even if I don’t kill you, fighting won’t make it easier for either of us.”

Before he had even taken a step, a small voice cried out, “Don’t!” Din’s weapon involuntarily tracked towards the sound as a small child ran from an unseen room to the right. It was a Twi’lek girl, about ten years old. She ran straight to Shand and clutched at her leg. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Hush,” Shand said softly and placed her hand on the child’s lavender shaded lekku. “I told you to stay out of sight.”

The girl just mewled and hugged closer. Then, three more Twi’lek children came out of the room, a boy and two girls appearing to range in ages from about six to twelve. They clustered behind the renowned assassin and watched the Mandalorian fearfully. “We won’t let you take her,” the boy, who was the oldest, said as he put a hand on the first girl’s shoulder.

Din lowered his weapon and heaved a sigh. Were children just destined to be his downfall? Behind him, Calican came barreling through the doorway.

“What’s going on? Did you get her?” He held his blaster up, waving it around the room.

Din reached over and pushed his arm down. “Can’t you see there’s children in here?”

“What? What’s happening? Why are there children?”

“Shand was just about to tell me that exactly,” Din said, gesturing to her invitingly.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then started again. “They’re slaves.”

“Clearly. I didn’t take you for trafficking.”

“I’m not,” she snapped angrily. “About a year ago I started sneaking them out whenever I could. Finding homes for them. This last time, though,” she said looking down at the small group, “I got caught. We barely got away, and…” She pointed to her arm.

“And the notoriously unforgiving Hutts put a bounty on you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t get it, you’ve been working for them for years. Why the sudden turn to martyrdom?”

Shand stood quiet for a moment and then lifted her hand towards the unseen room, gesturing for someone or something. In a moment another small child, human, walked out, glanced at Din and then raced to Shand, squeezing between the woman and the Twi’lek girl still hanging from her leg. This child was small, maybe four years old. Long dark hair fell down her back, her eyes were almond shaped and her nose small. She was the spitting image of her mother.

“Shit,” Din whispered and holstered his blaster and put the cuffs back on his belt.

“Are you kidding me?” Calican said. “You’re just going to let her go?” he yelled and raised his weapon.

The children cried out in fear and Shand hunched over them in a clear gesture of protection.

“Put it down!” Din said. “It’s over.”

“Not for me!”

“There are more important things in this galaxy. It’s not always going to be about you.”

Calican just stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief. “She killed my father!”

“You’re Bentto Calican’s boy, aren’t you?” Shand spoke up.

“Yeah, and you shot him in cold blood!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. He was…nice. I liked him. But he was also a gambler who didn’t know when to call it quits.” Calican’s lips tightened and Din knew that this was something the kid was well aware of. “He lost and borrowed a lot of money and made promises he couldn’t keep. Trust me, he got way more second chances than most people get. But he made a choice to do business with Hutts, he knew the consequences. If it helps at all, Jabba wanted him thrown to the sarlacc, but I went with the quicker way.”

Calican took in a shaky breath. His hand trembled. Din put his own on top of it and gently pressed it towards the ground. Calican holstered the weapon and then squeezed both hands into fists in frustration. He turned around and punched the wall.

“You’re in pain,” Din said quietly. “Appreciate the pain, it means you’re still alive.”

“Whatever,” Calican said in a voice choked in emotion. “Thanks for nothing.” He stomped out and into the desert.

Din shook his head. “Guess I’m going to have to find a cat and a speeder to get off this rock,” he said grimly. “Maybe do some moisture farming.” He reached for the fob on his belt and threw it to Shand. She caught it easily in her left hand, then looked at it quizzically.

“The Hutts don’t usually contract out to the Guild.”

“They didn’t.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding. “You _needed_ that money?” Then she looked at him directly. “You’re that Mandalorian from Nevarro?”

“Yeah,” he said tiredly. When was the last time he’d slept? “I’ve been on the back foot for a while. My ship needed repairs and things are…tight.”

She smiled. “You need to learn to have contingency plans, Mando.” He didn’t bother to mention that Mandalorians are usually each other’s contingency plans or that any profit he’d made went directly to the up keep of the covert. He hadn’t exactly to be in a position to keep blind accounts in nefarious banks or set up safe houses across the Outer Rim.

Extricating herself from the children, Shand went to a bookcase. She opened a hidden compartment and pulled out a small sack, which she threw at him. He caught it and heard a light clinking. Inside were several denominations of a number of different currencies, totaling easily in the low five digits.

“It’s not as much as bringing me in alive, but…”

“That’s too generous,” he said trying to give the sack back.

She waved him off. “I owe you more than you can imagine.” She reached down and picked up her daughter, who pressed her face into Shand’s neck. Din watched and tried to ignore the small pain in his heart.

“Thank you,” Din said and placed the bag into his belt pouch. Then, without warning, his stomach growled, long and loud, reminding him it had been well over 24 hours since his last meal.

The children all burst out giggling and Shand smiled in sympathy. “Hungry? I was just getting ready to feed the brats.”

“I-I can’t,” he said, even though the hunger was gnawing at him fiercely.

“The helmet?” she guessed. “You can eat in the bedroom. No one will bother you.” Din sighed in indecision. He really wanted to get back to his own kid. “Come on,” she encouraged. “Stay and eat, and rest up. If you leave in a couple of hours you’ll make it back to Mos Eisley by suns up. There’s not much you can do before then anyway.”

“All right,” he said in resignation. The children all cheered and crowded around him, dragging him further into the small home.

Shand passed out bowls of a thick stew and handed him a large mug of water with his. “I bet you haven’t had anything to drink in a while either?” He admitted not. “This is a desert, and dehydration is a real thing. Self-care is important, even for a Mandalorian!” She ushered him into the bedroom and shut the door.

He listened as Shand’s brood ate and chattered on the other side of the wall as he had his own silent meal, wondering what the child was eating and doing back in Mos Eisley. Was he sad that Din wasn’t there? He hoped not. He had no idea how long they would be together, but he didn’t want the little one to get too attached. That would only lead to heartbreak. Din wanted him to be safe, he wanted him to be happy, but where that would be, Din couldn’t say for sure. Certainly not being dragged around the galaxy by a bounty hunter who couldn’t even remember to stay hydrated in the desert or fasten a child into a harness while flying in dangerous conditions. Or leaving said child alone in a spaceship to wake up disoriented and afraid. There had to be a solution, and Din would find it. He just needed some damned time to think.

He stayed and helped Shand clean up after the meal, the children settled down in a little cluster on the floor in front of a small holovid projector, Shand’s daughter asleep between the two youngest Twi’lek girls. They waved happily at him as he left.

Shand walked him outside. “Kids like you,” she observed.

Din started. “Why do you say that?”

“Most don’t warm to men who break down the front door and point a gun at them.”

“You never know. Some get used to strange things.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “Strange things they should never have too.” She looked far away, likely thinking about the life of slavery these kids had been destined for. Din thought of that great unknown that the child had almost been subjected to. “Thank you,” she said again. “I meant what I said; I owe you a life debt.”

“You won’t stay here.” He said it as a statement.

“No. We’ll be gone by tomorrow night.”

“Good. I won’t ask where to.” She smiled in silent understanding that she wouldn’t have answered anyway. “Then hopefully there will never be an opportunity to pay it back. Are you going to be okay with your arm?”

“I’ll make due.”

Din nodded and walked away. “Stay safe.”

“You too, Mandalorian.”

*******

  
  


A few hours after the Mandalorian had departed the proximity sensor went off. The children were all asleep in a pile on a nest of blankets on the floor. Shand grabbed a blaster from beneath the kitchen counter and stood at the corner so she could observe the hole in the wall where the front door once stood. Had the Mandalorian come back? Or someone else trying to make good on the bounty?

A she heard a soft chinking of spurs on boots, which the Mandalorian had not had. A silhouette filled in the doorway and took one step in, allowing her to see the face in the moonlight. “Hello, Fennec,” he said.

“Oh, it’s you,” she replied and dropped her blaster.

****

As Shand had predicted, the suns were just coming up over the horizon as he reached Mos Eisley. He parked the speeder bike where he’d found it behind the hanger and entered the door.

Across the tarmac, he saw the mechanic sitting cross-legged on the ground with the child facing her. She held her hands up, palms out and the child slapped frantically at them. The mechanic laughed and said, “No, no, no! Like this.” She slowly clapped her hands together once, then brought them out again and gently pressed them against the child’s outstretched hands. She clapped again and placed her right palm against his right palm, then her left against his left before clapping her hands together. The child giggled wildly and bounced up and down, clapping his own hands together several times.

Din smiled widely. He had vague memories of children in his home village playing a similar game while chanting a little rhyme. Maybe he would remember it all later to teach the kid.

He moved towards them, and the child immediately took notice. He pushed himself up with an excited shriek and wobbled as quickly as his little legs would carry him until he smacked face first into Din’s boot. “Hey,” Din said softly. “Take it easy, kiddo.” He picked the child up and held him close. “Miss me?”

“Nah,” the mechanic said with a wry smile as she joined them. “Only ran for the door every ten minutes.”

“Oh,” Din said with a twinge of regret.

“It’s all right, we had fun,” she said giving the child’s belly a friendly poke, which earned her a big grin. She looked at Din. “Repairs are all done. She’ll get you out of here just fine.”

“That’s good, thank you.”

“Bad news though.”

“Oh?” She cleared her throat and looked towards the sideyard where the pit droids were poking at each other. Then she looked at the ship. “You used the droids,” he said flatly, feeling annoyed.

“Yes, yes I did. But there’s only one of me, and if this me,” she pointed at her chest, “was to work on your ship, then they,” she pointed at the droids, “would be looking after your boy. I figured if it had to be one or the other-“

“Yes, you’re right, thank you.”

“Of course I am.” She smiled up at him and scratched the kid’s ear.

Din pulled out the sack Shand had given him and withdrew a large chunk of the currency – with some difficulty with the baby trying to reach out and grab it – and dropped them into her hand. “This should cover everything, I hope.”

“Yes, sir!” she exclaimed. “I take it your job was successful?”

“Nope. Goodbye, and thank you,” he said to her and walked onto his ship.

“My pleasure!” she yelled after him. “And if you’re ever in these parts again, you come on back! Ol’ Peli Motto will take care of you. Bye, Bright Eyes!”

Din and the baby waved as the ramp retracted into the ship.

  
  


The End.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  



End file.
